But What About the Pilot?
by ijustwanttobeabritishman
Summary: Martin's managed to set GERTI on fire. Whilst in the air, over a large forest. With no other passengers besides himself, Douglas, Carolyn, and Arthur. He's also managed to get his feet stuck under the seat, something no one ever told him could happen. So, yes. Plane crashing. Pilot stuck. At the end of the day, a grand total of one plane and one pilot come crashing down to earth.
1. Crash

**(A/N Cabin Pressure is AMAZING. Oh, god. Also, I have most of this already written out, so hopefully it should be up pretty soon.)**

oOoOo

"DOUGLAS!" Martin bellowed, hands beginning to shake. "Douglas, Douglas, _help!_" The flight deck was on fire, _the flight deck was on fire._ "_DOUGLAS!" _Flames encased the whole enclosure; Martin couldn't see where they began.

Douglas opened the door with a sigh. "Martin, did you accidentally press the- _the flight deck's on fire, oh, god!" _Douglas rushed over to the console, eyes running over it as fast as he could manage. "How did it happen?"

"I-I don't know-" Martin stuttered, eyes beginning to water. "I was just sitting here one moment, and- and the next, it's- it's up in flames!" His eyes were wide in terror. "Douglas, _do something!_"

"_You're _the captain."

Martin let out a terrified whimper. "Douglas, what do I _do?_"

The plane let out a loud groan and tipped sideways before giving a large jolt. Martin yelped, grabbing onto the back of the chair to stay put. Douglas fell backwards and hit the wall, wincing. Martin looked back in terror. "Martin! Get the extinguisher!" Douglas shouted.

"I can't, it's on the other- the other side of the plane," Martin stammered. "D-Douglas, I'm stuck!"

"What do you mean?"

"I can't move!" Martin yelled. The plane began shaking. Martin heard footsteps. The door slammed open.

"What on _earth-" _

"GET OUT!" Martin screamed. "GET OUT OF THE PLANE! WE'RE CRASHING!" Douglas rose steadily and stumbled over to the door, coughing loudly into his sleeve.

"Carolyn, grab Arthur and get out!" Douglas yelled. The plane was empty of passengers; they were flying to the London City airport, meeting a friend of Douglas's. (Presumably for another trade of sorts, judging by the twenty two boxes of inflatable beach balls stuffed in the luggage compartments. Carolyn nodded quickly. There was a small sound of Arthur protesting, but it was quickly stopped by Carolyn's harsh words and worried tone.

"D-Douglas," Martin coughed, through all of the smoke. "Get out while you c-can." Douglas rushed over to Martin's seat and tried to inspect what was wrong. The pilot's seat, in Gertie's little falling act, had become dislodged.. Martin's feet were crossed and pinned under the heavy chair. Martin pulled as hard as he could, but they wouldn't budge. "D-Douglas, get out! Make sure Carolyn and Arthur are safe."

"No! I'm not going to leave you here, Martin," Douglas growled, using all his strength to push at the chair. Gertie shuddered again and tipped even further. Glancing out the window, both Martin and Douglas could see that they were approaching the ground rather fast.

"_Douglas!_"

Douglas let out a cry of frustration as he found the seat wouldn't budge. Martin looked up, eyes streaming. "Douglas, go! I d-don't want you to d-die trying to s-save me." Douglas shook his head in response, funneling all the energy he had into his arms and pulling at the seat as if his life depended on it. "_DOUGLAS!_"

"Mum, are they going to be all right?" Martin heard Arthur ask, fearfully. Caroline said something in reply, but Martin couldn't make it out. He felt his hands begin to shake and quickly realized he was trembling.

"You t-two!" he shouted, and began hacking and coughing violently. "Jump!"

Douglas began tugging on Martin's body, which was quickly falling limp. Damn it- Martin couldn't pass out now.

"D-Douglas..." Martin choked out, through coughs. "Douglas, get out of here."

"Martin," Douglas began, but Martin cut him off with a glare. He scrambled in his pocket for a moment, knowing they had but seconds left. He finally pulled out, with great difficulty, a single, small, lemon. He pressed it into Douglas's hands.

"Go, Douglas. I won't have you dying on me."

Douglass took the lemon with trembling hands, nodding. He clasped Martin around the waist. "I may have been a better pilot," he muttered, "but you were the better man. Always." Martin shook, tears spilling out of his eyes. Douglass reluctantly jogged out of the flight deck and grabbed one of the two remaining parachutes. Without another word, he jumped.

oOoOo

Martin closed his eyes, waiting for the plane to hurry up and _crash _already. Not that he _wanted _Gertie to crash- in face, it would really be nice if she didn't; Gertie was a very nice plane and would always hold a special place in Martin's heart-, but if she did, he'd rather it be sooner rather than later. Something came on the intercom; Martin couldn't hear it. The plane steadily hurtled towards earth and Martin tried to imagine he was somewhere else- anywhere else. He was a plane. A real aeroplane. He was Gertie, flying through the sky, barreling towards earth. Martin heard the sound of branches and twigs making the most horrible snapping noises, a gigantic crash-

And then silence.


	2. Search

The walk through the forest was silent, apart from the crunching of footsteps and the occasional snapped branch. Douglas, leading the small troupe of three, walked steadily in the direction of the rising cloud of smoke. It wasn't GERTI, that much he knew. But smoke meant people, and people usually meant buildings. Soon, the three weary aeroplane workers made their way through the large forest to a small town. A small French town. Luckily, Douglas (while not completely fluent in French) knew well more than enough to get by and managed to book them a small room in the tiny inn at the edge of the town.

The following morning, the three asked the innkeeper and the rest of the small town if they'd seen or heard a plane crash nearby. The innkeeper knew nothing, but the man at the bookstore and the two people who ran the bakery sad they'd heard a plane crash and seen something fly out of the air.

"_About three miles from hear, due East, by the looks of the smoke," _a short, messily haired man informed them. _"Your plane?"_

Douglas affirmed that yes, it was their plane (he tried to explain it was called GERTI but didn't quite get the message across), and thanked the man.

"Right," he muttered. "We'd better get walking."

oOoOo

The walk itself was in absolute silence. Douglas still led both Arthur and Carolyn (Arthur had remained unnaturally quiet the entire trip, sometimes informing his mother that he was going to the bathroom or something of the sort) through the underbrush.

The smell of smoke filled his nose. He glanced quickly back at Carolyn, who merely nodded in response. Damn, they must be close. He really, _really _didn't want to see what had happened to Martin.

At the very thought of Martin, a wave of guilt and regret washed through him for what was possibly the first time in his life. It hit him like a gigantic brick made out of candy dropped from the sky- and, oh, he remembered that flight and how Martin had warned him against it- that _Martin's dead. _No more yelling of "I have control!" or "I'm the captain!" No more easily won bets, no more complaints about rules… God, it made him sick.

But he pressed on, heading steadily to what he knew would be the wreckage of the crash. _The crash you could have prevented, _his mind reminded him with an air of haughtiness. Douglas told it to shut up.

oOoOo

The plane was _destroyed. _The entire front end was charred beyond recognition, and the back had been decimated by oncoming branches. The wings- well, the wing, was barely still intact. The other had presumably broken off somewhere. Shattered glass littered the inside of the plane, and smearing the one remaining window was-

Blood.

Douglas nearly vomited on the forest floor. Instead, he carefully crept forward and inspected the cabin.

Burned. Everything inside had turned to blackened dust. No doubt… Martin as well. Douglas unconsciously began to shake and he stepped back, horrified. Carolyn put an arm on his shoulder consolingly, but he crushed her off. Jesus, this was all his fault.

oOoOo

The inspection of the plane proved to be nearly fruitless. Inside, there was almost nothing left. Douglas found the galley to be blackened as well, though the passenger seats remained mostly unharmed. Douglas noticed something on the floor, and as he picked it up, he felt his heart skip a beat and his stomach nearly turn over.

Martin's hat, still barely stained yellow on the top from when he'd taped that ridiculous lemon on. Despite the situation, the memory still managed to bring a small smile to Douglas's face. He placed Martin's hat on his own head and headed to Carolyn, who was searching through the passenger seats for… Martin.

"He's not here," Douglas bit out. Carolyn turned and raised an eyebrow. Douglas sighed. "Right before we… crashed, Martin got his legs stuck under the seat. He tried- we both tried- to get him out, but he insisted I leave. If I'd stayed just a bit longer…" he broke off, not meeting Carolyn's eyes.

"Douglas," she began, softly, "it's not your fault. There's nothing you could have done."

Douglas barked out a hollow laugh.


	3. Discussion

"What are we going to do, mum?" Arthur asked, once they'd returned to the hotel. "I mean, we don't exactly have a plane to fly away in. Since it was destroyed." Arthur paused. "When we crashed. A-and we don't have a pilot, either- no, we've got Douglas, right. But not Martin. Right." There was a long silence.

Carolyn sighed. "You are correct, Arthur- and I don't know how we're going to get out of here."

"We'll ask the innkeeper is he knows of any means of transportation," Douglas chipped in, smartly. "There's a road leading out; I can see if any of the people here have cars" Carolyn nodded.

"What about GERTI?" Arthur asked, looking up at his mother despondently.

"She's beyond repair," Carolyn stated, bluntly. "There's no point trying to fix her. It would cost too much to even salvage what's left of her."

"We're all out of jobs," Douglas muttered dully. "We've lost our 'airdot'."

Carolyn frowned. "We'll get by, Douglas."

"Without a job? I won't survive! I won't have money, which means I won't have a car, let alone a wife or another job. I may even run out of food!"

"_Douglas._"

"I won't have a place to live!"

"And you think Martin had one?"

There was a long silence. Carolyn stared at Douglas, who seemed, for once, at a loss for words.

"Look Douglas. I know you're upset, but Martin wouldn't want us to-"

"TO HELL WITH WHAT MARTIN WOULD WANT!" Douglas exploded, standing and looking Carolyn in the eye. "It doesn't _matter _what Martin would want because _Martin's dead. _And it's my fault he's dead, no matter what either f you say." He ended his outburst abruptly, breathing heavily. With one last, long suffering look at Arthur and Carolyn, he stormed out, slamming the door behind him.


	4. Help

Oh, god. Burning. Burning everywhere. A faint smell of plastic, perhaps gasoline. Burning.

"_Douglas, get out of here!" Douglas is hesitating, trying to find another way out like he always does, always can, but not this time-_

"_GO!"_

_The man leaves, and Martin is alone again._

Burning. The smell invaded his senses. He coughed loudly, and opened his eyes blearily.

Everything was burnt down to charcoal. He coughed again, spraying ash up in his face. Instinctively, he shielded his face with his arm. Oh god, everything hurt. Still coughing, he crawled out from under the blackened control pane and stood shakily.

Lowering his arm slowly, Martin Crieff observed the wreckage of what had once been his beloved plane, his GERTI. And then it hit him. _I'm alive. _Martin would have shouted for joy had his throat not felt as parched as dry oatmeal. Instead, he settled for coughing again.

oOoOo

Martin managed to crawl out of the plane easily enough. The woods themselves were dark and lonely. Looking up at the sky, he could tell it was about dusk. He could see the moon just begin to rise over- smoke! Martin trailed his eyes down the large column of smoke until it disappeared behind a line of trees. Good. Smoke meant people.

Martin made his way to a very small town. Most of the buildings were closed, save the tallest of the lot. Martin jogged through the cobbled road that ran down the middle and over to what looked like an inn or a hotel of some sort. The doors creaked loudly when he pushed them open and he saw a man leaning over a desk, scribbling on a pile of papers.

"_Bonjour monsieur," _came a half hearted greeting from the front desk. It was followed by the sound of papers shifting around. Martin bit his lip. His last encounter with French had not been very… successful.

"U-um," Martin stammered. "D-do you speak English?" he asked, timidly. The man looked up, eyebrows raised, and stood from his seat. For a moment Martin thought he was going to shout or yell, but he simply walked around a corner and disappeared. Martin stood awkwardly in the middle of the hallway, unsure of what to do.

Voices came from behind the corner. The man returned with a small woman, who had her long blonde hair tied in a ponytail. She took one look at Martin and crossed the room.

"Oh my gosh, are you okay?" she gushed, taking in his appearance. _English, _Martin thought. _Good_. "You look _horrible._"

"I- um. My plane crashed a few miles East of here," Martin explained. "I-I don't have any money or a phone or anything." He looked around the building. "Your inn was the only place open."

"Well, you're welcome here," the girl replied, smiling broadly. "My name's Nikki. And he," she indicated to the man behind her, "is my uncle. You can stay here, if you like. I think we have some spare clothes. If you help out a bit, we'll call it even."

Martin nearly fainted.

oO0Oo

"I've called Herc," Carolyn announced. "He said he'll be here in a few hours, and then we can all go home." _Well, almost all of us, _she mentally amended.

Douglas nodded affirmatively, not looking up from the small desk he was leaning over, scribbling away on a small piece of paper.

"Oh, that's good," Arthur replied, beaming. "Herc's real nice to do that, right, mum?" he asked, smiling.

"Yes, he is," Carolyn said, tiredly.

"Right. I'm going to get this cleaned," Douglas announced, brushing off his coat. "I'm sure they'll have some spares I could borrow for the short period of time it takes to wash clothes." Without looking back at Carolyn or Arthur, he left the room and made his way down to the bottom floor.

"_Excuse me," _he said, cautiously, to the man at the front desk. He wasn't sure his French was perfect, but it seemed to come through anyways._ "Do you have any spare clothes?"_

"_Certainly," _the man replied, and pointed down a small hallway. _"Three doors down on the right."_

"_Thank you,_" Douglas replied. He found the clothes and made his way to the laundry room, where he changed quickly into the spare clothes and began loading the uniform into the washer.

oO0Oo

"You should be able to find something that fits you in here," Nikki said, opening the door to the closet. "Um… how about these?" She pulled out a set of clothes and handed them to Martin. "Hm, strange. I could have sworn we had another shirt in here." She shrugged.

"These will be fine," Martin assured her. "I- I don't know how to thank you. You've been so hospitable."

Nikki blushed. "It's nothing, really. Just help out a bit with the laundry and dishes and yer' good." She smiled, and Martin chuckled nervously.

He walked back down the hallway and passed by the laundry room door, glancing quickly at it. Hm, the man sitting in front of the washer had a similar haircut to Douglas's. Looked about the same height as well. Martin shook his head, smirking, and kept walking. If Douglas was still alive (He was pretty sure Douglas was still alive, anyways), he'd never step out of his uniform. Martin made his way up to his room (221, the man had said), shut the door behind him, and collapsed on the bed, smiling to himself. For once, things were going right.


	5. Reveal

After searching the town the next morning and finding that nothing was open but the inn (as had been the case the night before), Douglas retreated back, deciding he'd just order breakfast by room service. Carolyn reluctantly agreed, on the condition that Douglas would pay for it. Douglas consented.

They waited for a few minutes in an almost-but-not-quite-awkward silence for the food to arrive, in which Arthur slept (he hadn't slept the night before due to excitement and nerves), Carolyn worried (_what if Herc doesn't come oh god what if we're stuck here what am I going to do without GERTI what's going to happen_), and Douglas returned to thinking guiltily about what he'd done (or rather, what he hadn't done).

The silence was interrupted by a _crash _outside the door, a loud yell of surprise, and a _thump _of someone falling to the ground. Douglas had the impression that none of them were going to get breakfast any time soon. A few scuffling noises could be heard, along with the clashing of metal. Douglas sighed and opened the door to survey the damage.

oO0Oo

Martin mentally slapped himself as his foot caught on the carpet and he was sent sprawling to the ground, eggs and toast flying from the plates he was carrying onto the floor. He picked himself up hurriedly and tried to clean the food from the floor, feeling a large weight drop into his stomach of worry. Christ, he'd only worked here for a day, and already he'd managed to do _this._

The door opened above him and Martin kept his head bowed, still trying to clean the floor.

"Oh, god, I'm _so _sorry, I… I don't speak any French, I-I-" he stammered, not knowing what to say. The person was silent. Martin still didn't look up. "I can get- I can get more for you, I'm so sorry about this."

"…Martin?" came a weak voice. Martin looked up, startled.

"Douglas?"

And, sure enough, his first officer was standing in the doorway, face frozen in disbelief.

"Martin, you're… you're dead," Douglas said slowly, as if it took physical effort to speak each individual word.

"Well…" Martin began, standing awkwardly. "…I'm not."

In an instant, Douglas swept forward and gathered Martin into a tight hug, gripping the ginger-haired man around the middle. Martin froze momentarily before cautiously hugging Douglas back, smiling lightly.


End file.
